


Bitter Sweet Love

by themostawesomehuman



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25126408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themostawesomehuman/pseuds/themostawesomehuman
Summary: From a perspective of one of Matthew’s so-called lover.
Relationships: Matthew Fairchild/Anonymous
Kudos: 7





	1. Why him?

“Why Matthew Fairchild?” Someone had ask her before. 

It was a very good question. A very good one indeed. Why not the gentleman who will ask for your hand in marriage? Or someone who will hold you close when you’re getting cold. Why did she choose him- him with the flirtatious winks, scandalous stories, empty wine bottles and countless “lovers”. 

Perhaps it was that he challenged her, made her question everything she has ever known. He infuriated her at times, but at the end of the day no one could make her laugh like he did. He was so full of life. Bright. Beautiful. Breath taking. Angelic. Warm. But at the same time he was spiritless. Troubled. Cold. Matthew Fairchild was an oxymoron. A paradox. He was mystery no one could solve. 

She always have been fond of mysteries.

Crush into him, warm bodies pressed against each other, tongues demanding and desperate, hands roamed everywhere. She felt the door rattle against her back as he shifted, pressing her against it. “I love you” she would whisper in his ear, because she needed to make sure that he knows it. He told her once that no one could ever love him for him. But she did. She does. 

“I want you”, she purred, because she wanted him to know that too. She let him undress her. Piece by piece. Delicate. Careful. Let him see her for all she was. She ran her fingers along his jagged scars and reminded herself that he was broken. Just like her. 

The morning would come. She would wrap her legs slim legs around his waist and muttered “stay” in a loud whisper. 

Matthew would kiss her, wrap his ringed fingers in her tangled hair; enclose them around her neck. His cruel kindness. Just hard enough to feel her pulse, the quiet beat beat beating beneath.

He would pull her closer. Closer enough to see when the light shines in his eyes, they are bright emerald. He placed a gentle thumb on her soft bottom lip and breathes. 

“Stay, Matthew. Just a little longer.” She would beg.

But he never did. Not even once. Like lighting he was gone. 

Why Matthew Fairchild? The boy who doesn’t believe in love but yearns for it still. “Why Matthew Fairchild?” Someone had ask her before. 

It was a very good question. A very good one indeed. Why not the gentleman who will ask for your hand in marriage? Or someone who will hold you close when you’re getting cold. Why did she choose him- him with the flirtatious winks, scandalous stories, empty wine bottles and countless “lovers”. 

Perhaps it was that he challenged her, made her question everything she has ever known. He infuriated her at times, but at the end of the day no one could make her laugh like he did. He was so full of life. Bright. Beautiful. Breath taking. Angelic. Warm. But at the same time he was spiritless. Troubled. Cold. Matthew Fairchild was an oxymoron. A paradox. He was mystery no one could solve. 

She always have been fond of mysteries.

Crush into him, warm bodies pressed against each other, tongues demanding and desperate, hands roamed everywhere. She felt the door rattle against her back as he shifted, pressing her against it. “I love you” she would whisper in his ear, because she needed to make sure that he knows it. He told her once that no one could ever love him for him. But she did. She does. 

“I want you”, she purred, because she wanted him to know that too. She let him undress her. Piece by piece. Delicate. Careful. Let him see her for all she was. She ran her fingers along his jagged scars and reminded herself that he was broken. Just like her. 

The morning would come. She would wrap her legs slim legs around his waist and muttered “stay” in a loud whisper. 

Matthew would kiss her, wrap his ringed fingers in her tangled hair; enclose them around her neck. His cruel kindness. Just hard enough to feel her pulse, the quiet beat beat beating beneath.

He would pull her closer. Closer enough to see when the light shines in his eyes, they are bright emerald. He placed a gentle thumb on her soft bottom lip and breathes. 

“Stay, Matthew. Just a little longer.” She would beg.

But he never did. Not even once. Like lighting he was gone. 

Why Matthew Fairchild? The boy who doesn’t believe in love but yearns for it still.

Why him?


	2. For him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To what lengths will you go for love? Are you enough?

Matthew Fairchild fell in love with the idea of eternal youth and endless beauty. Sculptures. Paintings. Books. Things that are created for beauty and joy. Something that will last forever. He wanted a portrait of himself to stay beautiful. She knew he wanted something — someone forever young, beautiful, worthy of his touch. She wanted to be worthy of him. She had to be.

Lost in her thoughts — her eyes drifted up to his, and everything else melted away. 

His lips caught her’s in a hard kiss, driving them apart with the force of it. Wild. Lustful. Hash. There was nothing gentle about it. I felt the bed underneath squeaking as he forcefully pressed her back against it, taking her face between his merciful hands. Every thought in her head exploded to million, trillion colours, and she felt the dark curl of fear twisting in her stomach. Would she ever be enough? 

Every time she had wonder if he read her mind, he whispered, “you’re absolutely stunning.” He described her eyes as the colour of sunlight through of whisky. The rich colour of the earth after rain. He told her that her eyes were of amber and onyx. He compared her eyes with sweetness of hazelnuts and gingerbread and chocolate brownies. They reminded him of nostalgic smell of sweet-bitter cinnamon. He convinced her that they were nothing of ordinary. Matthew Fairchild made her special. 

Matthew was the kind of man playwrights would make a tragic hero — authors spend years writing books about, and he was the type of boy that people have been singing songs about for generations. He was a heartbreaker. A disaster. A dreamer. A Charmer with thousands of admirers he even never noticed. Would she ever be worthy of him? 

She knew that he was not part of the ordinary world. He was a Nephilim. Part of a secretive race — born with angel blood. Matthew was a protector. A warrior. A Solider. For generations her family was gifted to be able to see; the Sight as they call it. But she was still a mundane. A nobody. 

She wanted to be worthy of him — to be part of his world. To be loved and admired. All too well, she knew exactly what to do. Matthew Fairchild fell in love with the idea of eternal youth and endless beauty. Immortal beauty. 

If one little bite will promise her his heart. If one painful bite could make her part of his magical world. If one bite could promise her eternal beauty. 

To love.

To art and beauty.

To Matthew Fairchild.


	3. Is it worth it?

Next thing she was clawing her way through the earth. Now that she could never see the rays of the sun through the tinted windows, or feel the lovely warmth of the light on her skin. Never again able to admire the bright colours of the day and watch the sun slowly and gently setting on the Thames. The water glittering like thousand tiny diamonds. She knew that now she would be forever young — finally beautiful. Finally she would enough for Matthew Fairchild. For Matthew Fairchild, it did not matter that she would be shunned by God. For Matthew Fairchild she would do anything. Anything and everything. 

Matthew grabbed her around the waist with trembling fingers. He was gentle, fingers ghosting along her skin as if a single touch too harsh would shatter her into pieces. His angelic face unreadable. She laughed, the sweet melody of a song that she wish for him to listen for the rest of eternity.

“You do know that I’m not going to break? I’m the Child of the Night, Mr. Fairchild. I’m not as delicate as you think — but you already know that”. She smiled at him seductively. Finally she was enough for her boy. “This is an improvement, don’t you agree? Young and beautiful—forever, just like you always wanted”

“I-“ Matthew’s emerald eyes wilded as he shook his head and gobbled down the whole glass of spirits presumably to calm his nerves. “I can’t believe this. You did this to yourself? Darling, never in my wildest dreams would I ever-“ 

She put a finger to his soft lips, silencing him. 

“Just stop talking and kiss me” she purred. And so he did. Passionate. Deep. She could taste strong sweet liquor. Llike sunlight. She could feel the warmth radiated from his body as it intertwined with hers. Young. Soft. Pure. Her sweet sinner saviour.

She noticed an unnatural steadiness in his hands, he looked away from her. He never looked away. 

After the longest moment he started talking “I don’t deserve you”, he whispered, tucking a strain of her hair behind her ear. “We need to end this”, he said. 

She looked at him in disbelief, “WHY? What do you mean ‘I don’t deserve you’? What does that even mean?”

His deep green eyes were closed. Matthew looked like he was in some sort of pain. 

Slowly stepped back from his touch. She felt her chest burning. She didn’t want him to touch. He opened his mouth again and she cut him off in a fierce demanded “How dare you say that?”. She swallowed, “after anything I did? Everything I did, I did for you! How could you say that?” Her heart broke. She could practically hear the sound of it. She voice was only a whisper by the end as her voice died in her throat. Suddenly she regretted not having anything to drink beforehand. 

Matthew Fairchild leaned against the windowsill in a lazy fashion— fighting the urge to pull her into his arms — at least to offer some sort of comfort. He acted casual. Relaxed. Calm. Just like how he made everything in his life seemed so easy. “I don’t. You are amazing and caring and painfully kind. Someone like me doesn’t deserve someone like you”. He assured her. His grip on the windowsill tightened. She was too pure and too sweet to love him. As he feared she has already fallen.

His throat burnt like he downed six shots of vodka. “You should save it for someone who deserves love. Someone worthy of your love”, Matthew gave her a sweet melodic smile. His voice so calm, so gentle. 

She looked up towards the ceiling in an effort to stop the tears from streaming down her face. “I...”, a quivering a escaped her throat. “I thought maybe if I change…maybe I’ll be enough for you. Maybe you’ll stay then. Maybe you’ll let me in. Maybe then I can figure you out,” she looked straight ahead as the tears fell, shaking her head slowly. Her voice cracked, “ I love you, Matthew Fairchild. Even if you don’t love yourself” This was the truth. He had to hear it. He had to. 

“I’m just-I want to be happy, yet I do thinks that will make me sad. I’m a very lazy person but I’m also ambitious. I despised myself, but at the same time I also love who I am. I hate it, by the angel, I fucking hate it!” Matthew took a deep breath, his voice shook, “I say I don’t care, but I really do. If I can’t figure myself out, there’s no way anyone else will. I care about you but-but not like way you want me to. No one can figure me out. Not even you, my detective,” his eyes had the same gleam of mischief she always loved. “It does not matter if you’re a mundane or a vampire or a warlock. I treat every creature with equal respect — aside from demon, of course”. He pulled out his handkerchief and gently wiped her tears away. “Now let’s go find you a nice vampire friend, shall we?” As he said that she playfully punched him on the side. 

Matthew Fairchild was a lot of things. He was the sort of person people would remember. He was a paradox. An oxymoron. A warrior. A dreamer. A sinner. A saint. A hero. A Villain. A gentleman. A heartbreaker. A mystery. But the most important thing about Matthew was kindness. Kindness made him burn the brightest in a room full of selfish people. Even though, he did not love her. She thought that she would care for him for the rest of her unlife. The tale of this bittersweet love will remain with her till the end of time.


	4. Welcome to the Shadow Wolrd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Lily Chen and Anna Lightwood!

Hell Ruelle was pure magic. Well decorated in red and green, blue and gold. Bronze-painted corridor. Extravagant paintings. Chatter and laughter from every single direction. Sweet melodic music from the cherrywood stage filled the room.

As soon as they entered Matthew left to greet his acquaintances; a woman dressed in a fine tailored suit with raven black hair slicked back and striking blue eyes. The well known beautiful heartbreaker: Anna Lightwood. Ravenna was exactly surprised that Matthew knew Anna Lightwood personally. As rumors went they were seen roaming the dark streets of London together regularly. The two bohemian shadowhunters of London.

Next to Anna Lightwood, another girl dressed in red silk holding a golden tray of champagne. She tipped her head back as she laughed and resting it on Matthew’s shoulder comfortably. She was absolutely stunning, her dark straight hair down to her waist contrasted with her pale porcelain skin and the rich crimson of her dress. No doubt, this was the vampire Matthew wanted her to meet: Lily Chen. After a few exchange of loud whispers between the three of them, Lily looked over with an easy grin as Anna gave her a warm gentle smile as she moves to create space indicating that they wanted her to join in.

As she approached them, Lily abandoned the tray on a nearby table and grabbed her hands. “ I’m Lily Chen!”� Lily’s hands were at the same temperature as hers. Cold. Dead. Beautiful nonetheless. Lily’s long slim fingers raped around hers’s and she felt a sense of comfort. Since she turned a lot of people treated her differently. Vampires are not the most trusted downworlders to be touched.

“ I-um I’m Ravenna�,” she stuttered. Lily’s smile was so bright and lively-maybe lively wasn’t the appropriate word but it was warm.

“A pretty name for a pretty young lady,”� Anna nodded approvingly and held her hand out for Ravenna to take it, “Matthew, told me to introduce you to a few people. If you’ll allow me”. 

Shyly she took Anna’s gloved hands as she was lead into a new handsome group of Downworlders leaving Matthew and Lily alone.

“Look at her,” Matthew whispered as he glanced towards the group of vampires, down the content of his glass in one big gulp as he reached for another.

“She had so much to live for and she threw it all away because of me. She can’t ever go out in the sun or enjoy a nice picnic. I destroyed her.” 

Matthew gazed at Ravenna through the rim of his champagne glass, his eyes glittering. 

He downed his drink and placed the empty glass back on the round table, “tell her I’m sorry? I’m truly sorry for making her like this.” 

“I will”, Lily rolled her eyes sarcastically, “but for the record? You didn’t destroy her. You’re not that powerful. She can make her own decisions. This was her choice”. 

As Lily turned to leave, she looked at Matthew dead in eyes,”oh and one more thing, if you dare to say anything like that again I shall beat you to death with this tray”� as Lily gestured at the tray on the table, Matthew put up both his hands in surrender. Lily flounced off in a swirl of red silk to join Anna and Ravenna, gaving Matthew one last deadly glare. 

‘Maybe she’ll be alright,’ Matthew thought before he followed Lily into the crowd.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this!


End file.
